Not As Alone As You Think
by TimeTrekker
Summary: Companion one-shot to Just Like Jesse James. McCoy goes back to same saloon to drown his sorrows, and meets the mysterious girl who had the fire in her to shoot down the advances of "irresistible" Jim Kirk.


_**This is a second one-shot featuring Dr. McCoy and my OC in response to a reviewer's request for more with these characters. This piece explores another side of the mysterious young woman Kirk and McCoy met in the saloon.**_

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 **Not As Alone As You Think**

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It had been a month since the last time that McCoy had visited _The Yellow Rose_. As he sidled up to the bar, he thought about the last time he was in there, when a stunning Native American woman had totally schooled his friend, Jim Kirk. In song, no less.

He let the memory of her rich, dulcet voice washing over him only a moment; tonight he was not there to celebrate or have fun. He was there to drown his woes.

He ordered a shot of whiskey to start, mulling over it's dark amber liquid as the words of the message he had received that afternoon.

 _Doctor Leonard H. McCoy,_

 _This letter is to inform you that the Courts of the State of Georgia have ruled that sole custody of one Joanna Lynn McCoy is hereby awarded to the child's birth mother, Jocelyn Hatfield Davenport..._

The rest explained that, in polite, legal terms, he would never be allowed to see his daughter again without his ex-wife's permission. Jocelyn had divorced him, re-married a rich lawyer from Philadelphia a month later, then proceeded to do everything in her power to keep Joanna away from him. Originally, they had been awarded equal shared custody, but slowly, through a series of appeals and law suits, Jocelyn had taken his privileges to see Joanna bit by bit, culminating in the letter he had received that day.

Joanna was his world. Even when Jocelyn cheated on him, then divorced him, Joanna had still always came to him. She had always been a daddy's girl, and, simply put, Jocelyn was jealous. So, she and her new husband took Joanna away from him for good.

Tipping his head back, he downed the shot in one swallow. He ordered a second shot and let his head fall into his hands. Tears stung his eyes, and his breath caught in his throat. _Sole custody is hereby awarded to Jocelyn Hatfield Davenport...Sole custody is hereby awarded to Jocelyn Hatfield Davenport...Sole custody is hereby awarded to Jocelyn Hatfield Davenport..._ It kept echoing through his mind.

Suddenly, someone slipped onto then stool beside his. "My usual, Richard, please," a soft, familiar female voice asked. "Well, if it isn't Leonard McCoy. Or is it Bones?" she drawled. "No offense, but I'm kinda glad Mr. Kirk isn't here to-" Slowly, he raised his head and met her familiar blue eyes, still startling to him in her bronze face. The faint smirk playing around her lips instantly died, and her face filled with concern. "What is it, Mr. McCoy?" she asked gently, laying a hand on his arm. "What happened?"

He said nothing and tossed back his whiskey.

"Well, if you should want to talk about it, I'm here. If you just need a shoulder to cry on, my shoulder is here too, though, in your case I assume it would be metaphorically since you gruff, quiet types don't usually cry."

Richard brought her drink, same thing as the last time they were in there. He watched her sip her drink out of the corner of his eye. She caught him looking and met his gaze expectantly.

Hesitantly at first, he found himself telling her all about Jocelyn, the divorce, and then the custody battles. She never said a word the whole time, but listened intently, her eyes never straying from his face.

When he finished, he had had a total of four shots and could feel the effects as his anger and sadness threatened to overcome him. He buried his face in his hands. Half of him wanted to punch something; the other half wanted to cry. He felt hollow with the joy of his life, his daughter, torn out of his reach for good.

As if sensing his thoughts, the girl beside gently turned him to face her, slipping a finger under his chin to raise his head. He reluctantly let her, having no interest in the pity he would find in her face or the empty words she would say in a vain attempt to make him feel better. He had just lost his daughter, _dang it!_ What could this young woman possibly think she could do or say to help him?

Then, she did the one thing he really did not expect. Wordlessly, she slipped her arms around his neck and shoulders, pulling him into a firm embrace. He wanted to bulk at the contact, but the next thing he knew, he was burying his face in her shoulder, holding her tightly, his hands enclosing fist-fulls of the soft flannel of the plaid button-down she wore like a jacket. He felt one of her hands begin combing through his dark hair, silently soothing him as he soundlessly cried. To everyone else, it just looked like a long hug. His tears soaked through her flannel, but she never said a word.

Finally, he calmed and slowly pulled away, secretly not wanting to leave her warm, gentle embrace. He opened his eyes and was astonished when he saw his companion.

Her own eyes were full of tears, a single droplet slowly sliding down her face. Instead of the pity he expected, it was empathy that she offered him. Understanding, as if she actually knew exactly what he was feeling, shone up at him from her sapphire eyes.

Before he could stop himself, he cupped her face in his hands and thumbed away her tear. "What is it, honey?" he asked softly, the endearment slipping off his Southern tongue without him realizing it. "Don't tell me all this is for lil' ol' me." He sighed gruffly; he was little more than a loser; Jocelyn had made sure he knew that every day for the last four years of their marriage, and every time she got the change after the divorce. All he had left was his medical degrees and Starfleet cadet uniform. There were plenty of people in the world far more worthy of this beautiful, half-Cherokee woman's time and company. "I'm nothing for someone like you ta worry your pretty, lil' head about."

"I think I decide whether or not you are worth worryin' over, Mr. McCoy," she answered softly.

"Just Leonard, honey."

"Well, I'm not worryin', _Leonard_ , that implies ditherin' or fussin' over you."

McCoy nodded.

"I'm tryin' ta tell you that life might give ya a tough road to travel," she said, taking his large hands in her much smaller, calloused ones. "but ya aren't as alone as ya think. That's somethin' I think you are certainly worthy of."

He felt his throat constrict slight at her words. "Thank you," he managed to get out. "I guess I'd better get back ta campus. Got a bunch of classes and my...goodbye...video call...with Joanna tomorrow."

She nodded. "Get some sleep, Leonard, and, if I may make a suggestion, go all out on your video call."

McCoy ducked his head. "All out?"

She raised his head again and looked him in the eye. "Yeah. Wear those cadet reds of yours. Whatever she sees tomorrow is how she's gonna remember you for a long time. Show that little girl that, no matter what her mama says, she has a strong, upstanding daddy to be proud of."

He nodded since words were suddenly impossible. He turned to leave, but he turned back at the last minute and pulled her in to a tight, fleeting hug before striding out of the bar.

As he walked back to campus, he mulled what had happened. How had she known that an ear to listen and a simple hug were literally the best things and only things he ever really wanted in times like these? It was something Jocelyn never understood, even after being married seven years. She always wanted to discuss or reason it out, worry obsessively over it, bombard him with pointless words and questions. It got to the point where he had had to keep his frusterations and saddness bottled up because she always made him feel embarrassed for his feelings and smothered by her reactions.

Yet, this one half-Cherokee cowgirl seemed to figure it out after only one meeting nearly a month ago. Shucks, she had let him pour out his heart and cry on her shoulder in the middle of a bar and had not once made him feel embarrassed for it. Jocelyn would have complained about him being too emotionally weak to hold it in while they were in public, then would not have left him alone about it once they got home.

It had felt...good... _wonderful_ , in a way...to just let it all out to someone who really seemed to care. A young woman who seemed to understand.

A young woman, he realized, whose name he still did not know.

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